


Crimson Voodoo

by Noir_Dix



Series: Crimson Voodoo [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: "Daddy" inappropriate-ness, A bit more sad backstory, Agoraphilia (mention), Copia has several kinks, Copia has several problems, Copia's terrible idea, Death Threats, Depeche Mode song, F/M, Foreshadowing, French pastry/custard, Imperator is not a nice lady, Inappropriate library usage, Other, Poor Cardi's dogma went out the door w/ oral, SCIENCE!, Sad little Dracopia, Shunga, The satin thing wasn't new, WSoS, Way-back machine, Word Games, a downright unforgivable sign of the cross, boiled peanuts (the beginning), dong grabbing, mild jealousy, rambling cum-speak (in Italian), snek steek, them damn lace-up pants (mention), vintage undies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-11-21 08:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: We're going backwards, to the Roaring 20's.I'm posting this open-ended, as the back-story/set-up is already almost as long as my other shtuff...Never a quickie, always a longie.(Tell me what y'all think... I crave validation.)Dixie Belle on fb#pomegranatethe-pomeganate-cassock on Tumblr





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A word of caution: open-ended=potential to go all over the place.

Dix stood patiently on the library's old hardwood floor . She held two massive, ancient tomes.

The Cardinal was all the way up one of the tall ladders, used to navigate the upper shelves. He wore a plain black cassock, free of any embellishment. He was streaked with that special variety of dust, that lives high up in undisturbed spaces.

He hummed happily, & she blew at a bit of loose hair on her forehead... It hadn't been caught up in the two long braids she wore.

"I am the way... & you invited me to stay..." he sang out, suddenly.

"What was _that?"_ she asked.

"I have no idea." he replied, perplexed. "I'll have to remember it, though."

They had risen at dusk, as was their wont. She'd thrown on a habit, & discovered that he'd hidden the veil.

He'd hidden all of her veils.

So, she'd done a couple of quick braids.

It turned out that he _really_ fancied the braids.

She shifted her feet, debating whether to go set the books down.

They had gotten to the library much later than planned. She had no idea what he was researching. One book was an illuminated beauty, in old Church Latin.

The other was French. Both volumes predated the Clergy taking over this particular church.

She went to find a table.

She returned to find that he'd moved down a rung.

She did a little wolf-whistle.

"Hey, baby... I can see up your dress."

He'd gone stock-still at the whistle. He made a little show of looking about furtively. He grabbed at the side of his skirt, & dragged it up to reveal-

A black trouser-leg.

She mimed a swoon, & he gasped, putting a hand to his mouth.

He chuckled & winked at her, before pulling another book from the stacks.

He started down the ladder, pausing halfway to do a little wiggle, with a playful ass-slap. He finally handed over the latest volume.

Also in Latin. He grabbed the end of her closest braid, giving it a tiny tug & pulling her into a soft kiss.

"Hmm." her nose wrinkled from the dust. "Have you found what you're looking for?"

"If you're talking about the books, yes. Almost. One more."

And, he trotted back on up the ladder.

"Lookee what I found-" he began, reaching across the top of the shelf.

She shook her head; now he was thoroughly covered in the dust.

It was a much smaller book. He blew the dust off it, & held it up... but, she couldn't make it out.

So, back down the ladder he came.

The cover was rather plain, with writing that was beyond her. It was some sort of calligraphy.

"It's from the Orient." he said, reverently.

"The Orient?" she asked. He nodded sagely. "What is it doing, here?"

"I have my suspicions." he said, opening it up.

And, there was a print, with a man in a robe. He had the biggest dick that she had ever seen. There was also a lady, in a robe as well, & he was...

"Oh, my." was all she could come up with.

"Yes." he agreed.

He turned the book sideways, as if that helped.

"I think we should remove this heathen tome." he declared sternly.

 _"YES."_ now she agreed.

He was nodding again.

"And, I believe that we should examine it in private, later. In the name of-"

"Science!" she exclaimed.

"...Sure. Why not?"

She started trying to beat the dust off him.

"We could examine it now-"

He raised his eyebrows.

 _"There's no one else_   _in here."_

"You don't say?" he sucked a fang, & now she nodded. "I did notice the tables."

He had a particular fondness for the long library tables.

She had a tendency to wind up on her back, legs dangling over the edge, sometimes propped up on her elbows, sometimes not, as he demanded,

_"Watch-me-as-I-fuck-you-"_

In various degrees of desperation, occasionally in different languages.

And, it _was_ fun to watch his wet cock slide ruthlessly in & out.

She shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, darling."

He took the big book from her, & headed over to add it the small stack she had started on the table. He set the woodblock prints to the side.

"End of the table." he growled, when she was within earshot.

He followed her, bending her forward & pressing insistently against her backside. He grasped her hips, then slid his hands all the way up to lightly squeeze her breasts.

"How do you want it?" he rasped in her ear. "Do you want to watch?"

Great minds thought alike.

"I _always_ want to watch." she moaned.

He moved, & she knew he was bending to hike up her skirt.

She suddenly realized that they were no longer alone. The massive old door was very slowly opening.

"Psst!" she elbowed him.

He dropped her skirt, & straightened. He grasped her shoulders lightly, & pulled her up, as well.

Sister Imperator entered the room. She sauntered their way, as if she owned the place.

Which, Dix supposed, in a way, she did.

"Ah, shit." he grumbled softly.

"Just stay behind me." she murmured.

"You are looking... well, Seester." he said, dropping into that dreadful accent.

"Cardinal Copia!" she said genially, acting for all the world as though he wasn't her son.

Dix felt her mouth set into a grim line.

His hands still rested on her shoulders, & he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Well..." Imperator cleared her throat, "I've been talking with Papa, & we've decided that the time has come for you to continue with your missionary work."

_Don't mess with a missionary man._

As if. The old Papa was perfectly content with Copia playing his right hand, balancing the books, & making inappropriate use of the libraries.

This had Imperator written all over it.

"Where do you need me to go?" he asked quietly.

Imperator smiled.

"The Crescent City."

Her eyes widened. She was sure his did, too.

New Orleans was legendary. Vampires, witches, the voodoo contingent...

The unholy church had explored the area several times, already.

"Uh-" he stammered, "Uhhh-"

She reached for one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Mother-" he began imploringly, "You _know_ that I- don't... travel- well."

Imperator looked about ready to bop him.

He set his other hand to rest at the small of Dix's back.

 _"Really,_ Copia-"

She felt him flinch.

"Are you still dwelling on _that_ nasty business? Why, that was centuries ago."

He stiffened, angry.

"Yes, mother." he said bitterly, "I'm still upset over Eliza dying in my arms. I'm still upset over Beth & I getting thrown on to that wretched cart with her, to inhale all the putrid miasma of death. I'm still upset over digging through a small mountain of corpses, only to find that I was too late to save her..."

He still had dreams, visions... She had tuned in on a couple of them accidentally, & ended up physically ill.

"Darling, my hand." he whispered.

She had been clutching it in a death-grip.

"Sorry." she muttered. He let her move a bit to his side, before wrapping his arm around her. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Don't be."

"Well-" Imperator said again, "It was a long time ago, & besides... you've got _this_ one, now."

Dix gave her the ugliest look she could possibly conjure.

Imperator paused, reflective.

"What was that other one's name? The one in-between?"

Anna Belle. She had died of consumption. She'd had no interest in becoming a blood-drinker. He'd left her, perfectly healthy, to embark on some other stupid mission. When he returned, she'd been buried long enough that grass covered her grave.

He'd had Mary dig her back up. They'd both sat, under a nearly full moon, & passed a bottle between them. It was their own private wake.

Dix was just this side of clawing the older woman's eyes out.

"Yes, mother." Copia began, sounding tired. "I've got this one, now. And, a better companion & help-mate I could not have asked for."

He hugged her around the shoulders, & pressed another kiss to her temple.

* * *

She had  collapsed, & was hanging in the framework of the pillory. She caught a murky figure, approaching at the edge of her vision.

"How do you do? My, you're a pretty little thing... What on earth are you doing out here?"

And, Death stood before her. A pale, skinny thing... with sunken eyes, wearing a black cassock.

He was investigating the big, ugly old key-lock.

"Don't go anywhere." he said, smiling at his little joke, before trotting across the dirt road.

She closed her eyes. Was she imagining things? Here, at the end of her life, had she conjured a weird little papist?

"Ta-da!" she heard, suddenly... & he was back before her, with an axe slung over his shoulder.

He'd gone over to the blacksmith.

"Please to be keeping still." he advised, before knocking the whole edge of the framework off.

She promptly collapsed to the ground. He followed her down, & pulled her back semi-upright by grasping her shoulders.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

She couldn't even stand back up. She tried to answer him, but, her mouth was so dry, she couldn't form words. She just made a few pitiful mewling sounds.

He looked at her as though she was making sense.

"All right." he said, standing. He then bent over, picked her up, & managed to carry her bride-groom style from the church, (in the middle of town) to the gate, (at the end of town).

She was impressed. He wasn't much bigger than her, & she was absolute dead weight.

Someone had left a horse, saddled & ready, at the edge of town. He pushed her up, & looked her straight in the eyes.

"Just hold on."

She was mesmerized. She hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention, but now noticed that his eyes were mismatched.

Terribly mismatched.

He climbed up behind her, & the horse became increasingly agitated.

"Shh, shh... I know." he murmured, I'm not happy about it, either."

The old man that acted as gatekeeper was ringing the alarm bell as though it were the end of days.

"Enough with the bell." her savior turned to snarl. "Open the gate."

The old man pointed with a shaking, bony finger.

"You don't want that one, padre..." he warned, "She's the devil's whore."

"You don't say." he looked down at her.

She was scared to death that he was going to toss her from the horse.

He grinned.

"Well, that's even better than I thought."

* * *

He failed that mission. But, even after he dragged her back to the church & slowly nursed her back to some semblance of health, she never had a problem with Imperator. As Mary had inelegantly put it, he'd kept her waiting on ice for years, & still, no problem.

It wasn't until he'd finally decided to kill her, & claim her by body & blood.

"So, all's well that ends well." Imperator beamed. "You have a week to prepare."

"How are we traveling?" he asked wearily.

"We?" she looked between the two of them, "You have a ticket for the train. You, & the Third. Papa's insistence."

He blanched noticeably.

He didn't do well on trains. At all.

"I suggest that you scrounge up a couple of more tickets, Mother." he said, tonelessly.

Dix was impressed. He was proving a point, by insisting that she go as she was.

"A couple-?"

"Mary." she supplied, before she could stop herself.

"Oh, really, now- What good could that scrawny little necro-"

"He does whatever we can't do, by daylight." he sighed. Even though Imperator suffered from the same affliction, Mary's purpose always seemed to elude her.

 _"Fine."_ she huffed, then turned to stalk from the room.

They just stood silently in her wake. He ended up wrapped around her, with his chin resting on her shoulder.

"I _really_ don't want to go in a coffin." he complained.

Boats & trains; he ended up in a coffin in baggage. It was horrible, but, not so much as it was a huge trigger for Mary... who had, in fact, been buried alive.

"We'll figure something out." she said, reaching to pat his back.

"Hm. Still want to fuck?" he asked.

She snorted.

"Let's get back to your room."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallway shenanigans.  
> I gave him more names! We'll see how that goes...

Although they both suffered from an Agoraphilia kink, (his was quite profound) she just wasn't in the mood, at the moment.

They gathered up the books, snuffed the lights, & made their way out into the tangled mess of halls.

"Why, Terzo?" he began to gripe in earnest, "Why am I getting saddled with that little twerp?"

Dix grinned. He was actually quite fond of the two brothers... He admired Two's drive & ambition, & just liked Three in general. They had come to the unholy church, just prior to their adolescence.

(Zero hadn't been aware of the little bastards.)

Copia, (Basil Confessore Imperator Copia, distantly related to the Emeritus line... *cough* _Distantly,_ my ass.) was just- there. As he'd always been; a creepy old thing, stalking the halls. At that time, he'd had a startling white cat, with dark blue eyes, as his familiar. There had been rumors of a blonde girl... but, no one could ever seem to catch sight of her more than once.

And, Mary was always around. Pale & skinny, & up to no good.

"-Ever since that little shit's balls dropped, all I hear is, 'Ooh, the Third... _so_ handsome. A veritable raven-haired Adonis.' Bleh. He'd fuck a tree stump, if it looked at him just so..."

He was rambling.

"You only have one green eye, monster." she giggled. "And, he _is_ cute, Daddy."

He stopped mid-stride.

"Woman, I _will_ fuck you right in the middle of this hallway."

"Talk is cheap." she taunted, jogging a bit... which, with the books, was easier said than done.

She did not get far. He deposited his books on a chair nearby, caught up to her easily, & grabbed her around the waist.

"What did you call me?" he hissed, only slightly out of breath.

"Tonight? Or, just in general?"

"Just now." he nipped at her ear, before teasing the lobe with the tip of his tongue.

"Green-eyed monster? Shakespeare."

"No."

He set to smooching the side of her neck, one of his hands sliding up to fondle a breast, the other going down to grab at the v between her legs.

"I don't remember."

A couple of sisters scurried past.

"Ew. Creepy old man... Who knew that he was like _that?"_ one muttered.

"Who's she? I've never seen _her_ around-"

"They should see the view from the front." he said, grinding a bit against her crack.

She felt like he was poking her with a rolling pin, & that was with several layers of clothing between them.

"Now, where was I? Ah-"

"Daddy!" she interrupted him, lady parts humming. "I called you Daddy. It was an unfortunate choice of words."

"How so?"

"Because you're getting ready to hike up my skirt, & fuck me here in front of God & everybody."

"That's if you're lucky. No... you can disguise too much, with these ridiculous dresses."

He pondered. She turned to face him, & he had a small tent in his cassock.

This was with his trousers still on.

"That was a disgustingly sexy thing to say."

"Let's get to your room."

"That's still a couple of halls away. I will have you _now."_

"Because I called you Daddy."

He slid his hand over his bulge, then set to unfastening a handful of the tiny covered  buttons.

Well. She hadn't thought of that.

She watched his hand disappear into the gap, & wondered whether the pants were next, or, if he was just going for an overhand rub.

"We would have gotten back, by now."

"What are you wearing under that get-up?"

He'd watched her earlier... Maybe not. He must have been completely consumed by playing with her braids.

She crossed her arms over her chest. He withdrew his hand, & she caught a glimpse of ruddy flesh.

Sweet Lord down below, but he made quick work of fastenings.

He began a slow walk toward her, & ended up backing her against a wall.

He gathered up her skirt, & reached a hand to touch her without looking...

"What the fuck is that?" he asked, looking down at a handful of peach satin.

"It's a step-in." she said. "It's like a slip, but, shorts."

He looked at her dubiously.

"It's a goddamn peach pillowcase."

"Oh, come on." she glared at him. "It's better than knickers. And, what's your problem with satin, all of a sudden?"

He looked down, sheepishly.

"How many of my satin under-things have you managed to jerk off in?"

He wouldn't answer her.

"The answer is all. All of them. Laying on your back, watching yourself in those godforsaken mirrors... Covered in cum, from your belly to your neck... With my négligé wrapped around your balls, still holding on to your spent sausage."

His ears were red.

"I'd be upset, if I thought you didn't like it."

That was beside the point.

"You're a weird one, Daddy."

He made an odd little squeaking sound.

"Go get your books, & let's go."

He hesitated. He really did seem to want to fuck in the hallway.

"Do I have to lead you by your cock?"

"What was it that you said? Something about talk being-"

She marched over, & put her hand in the little gap he'd made. He had his dick out, hot as a firecracker & sticky-wet.

"cheep." he squeaked.

"You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Oh, God... yes." he moaned, as she played with him.

She never could leave well enough alone.

He unbuttoned some more, making a much bigger gap, & pulling the fabric back to reveal his entire apparatus.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed, getting entirely too turned on by the pre-cum squirting a bit on her habit, then dripping down her hand & his shaft.

"I don't knooow-" he moaned pitifully.

She dropped to her knees before him. He clawed inelegantly at the top of her gown, finally gaining enough purchase to push the cowl, etc. down past her breasts.

He took his straining cock in hand, & circled one taut nipple with the head. He groaned as her stiff flesh rubbed his weeping slit. She gently pushed back the last little bit of his foreskin.

"I'm gonna cum-" he said, sounding oddly strangled. "I'm gonna cum all over you-"

"Don't you dare." she hissed. "I'm no where near done, playing with you."

He dragged the tip over to her other nipple, leaving a sticky trail & squirting a bit more on her, halfway.

"Mmm..." she watched him. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned-"

"Oh, fuck. Oh, God... NO."

He sounded about to have a nervous breakdown. She grinned evilly.

"You could at least bless me, with your leavings." she pouted.

She cupped her breasts, pressing them together, & thumbing her nipples.

He squirted a bit more, hitting her breast bone. He dragged his fingers through the little puddle, & drew a very small upside-down  cross.

"Very nice." she smiled. "Now, do it."

"I'm gonna cum." he again protested, feebly.

"Oh, hush." she watched him put his dick in her cleavage, such as it was. He held her shoulders, & began to do tiny thrusts against her.

"Mmm... You're cheating. You know that, right?" she asked.

"Not listening."

"You should have your pretty white ass out. It's always lovely, to watch how you wiggle it just so."

"Goddamn, woman. Do you want me to cum all over your tits?"

"You're right." she said, watching his cock again.

She licked her lips, sloppily.

"What? Oh, God-"

"I think this does need a little something more-"

"No. Oh, fuck- It's all over."

"Hm." she leaned in, to lick his oozing slit. She concentrated on the area, going at it like icing on a knife blade.

He started to tremble. He held her shoulders in a death-grip.

"You behave your goddamn self." she growled, before taking him into her mouth.

"Oh, fuck- Jesus Christ- & all the ships at sea-" he groaned.

She was busy, trying to work out the mechanics of the scenario.

"God damn. You should have your hair down for this."

She rolled her eyes up to look at him. It must have been quite a look, because it made him stammer,

"I'm sorry."

She was trying to build up a good mouthful of spit, & ran her tongue up under him. She set her left hand to play with his balls, & wrapped her right around the rest of his shaft.

He was no longer able to articulate words, apparently. He sounded like a wounded animal, & looked as though he was about to cry.

He unclenched his hands from her shoulders, (she'd have ten little bruises, later,) & held the sides of her face like an adoring suitor.

Not a heathen with half of his dick in her mouth. He very, very gently, & very slowly began to move against her.

She looked vaguely alarmed.

"I'll be careful, baby." he assured her, softly. "I won't make you gag."

She went on, doing as she had been... maintaining eye contact, & adapting to his soft thrusts.

(When he had survived her tongue curling under him, he knew that he would live to fight another day.)

She reached behind his balls to finger his taint.

He closed his eyes for _one_ second.

He twitched, & gave a little squirt, unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry!" he said. "Oh, God..."

She looked at him. One small squirt was not the end of the world.

He was looking down at her, eyes half-mast. She could tell that he was going to be nasty.

"How does it taste?"

Okay. She pulled back, a long string of spit following. He grabbed her shoulders again, & she winced.

His eyes were suddenly wide.

She laid one side of her face against his groin.

"What are you doing?"

She sighed.

"Trying to get my jaw to unlock." he was bouncing about awkwardly, & she wrapped her hand back around him. She went back to playing with his wet slit.

He shivered.

"It tastes like a hot, wet dick. A little salty, when you squirt... Kind of like boiled peanuts."

He gave her a look.

"Tell us what you _really_ think."

She giggled.

"What do you want? Shall I tell you it tastes like a chocolate eclair? Ohh, baby... I love your cum, it tastes just like French custard."

He snorted.

"I do enjoy watching you suck down a pastry, on occasion."

She tried to rise, & failed. He helped her up.

"Permesso to fuck you properly, my love?"

He pressed against her side, feathering soft kisses along her jawline, tickling her with his mustache.

He began playing with a still-exposed breast; she felt like white glue had dried on her.

He set to tonguing her nipple.

Her knees almost knocked together.

 _"That's_ what it tastes like." she said, tangling her fingers in his hair.

"Hm."

He bent her over, suddenly. He pulled her skirt up once again, & just pushed the fabric of one wide leg to the step-in all the way over.

"What are you-"

"Shh. You know I can't resist..."

He pulled her nether lips wide, & went right to eating her out. He spent only a bit of time licking her wet folds, before finding her hole, & pressing his Greek nose hard against it.

She gasped, tits swaying pendulously as she grabbed for her knees.

"I've got nothing to lean on, you satanic, crazy motherfucker!"

"You'll survive."

He bit her ass, & then went back to her hole. He tilted his head, & thrust his tongue just as far inside of her as he could.

"Oh, God-" she panted.

"No." he said, suddenly finding his abandoned dogma. He squeezed her ass, hard. "Mmm, delicious."

He went back to sucking her flesh.

"Oh, God." she moaned, again. He started to finger fuck her, twisting his hand to thumb her clit.

"I need more." he growled. He yanked the crotch to her step-in asunder.

He grabbed his cock, & pressed the head against her.

"Oh, you are so fucking ready." he groaned, jerking a bit against her wet flesh.

"What are you waiting for?" she almost wept.

"Beg for it."

"Fuck me."

His eyes narrowed.

"Fuck me, Daddy."

He paused at her entrance.

"More."

"What? What do you want? Fuck me hard? Fuck me into the brick wall? Pump me full of your filthy demon seed? Fuck me, you unholy rat bastard? Stick a feather in your ass, & call it macaroni?"

He was half inside her, when he started to chuckle at that.

"That works." he grinned, before grabbing her legs to wrap around him.

"Faster."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm right at the precipice. I can either croak or cum, but, you'll have to fuck me faster."

"You're horrible."

"You're the one that wants to charge admission."

"Guilty."

He did start pumping faster.

"Did you mean it?"

He sighed.

"What?" (he knew exactly what she was talking about).

"Never mind."

"Yes, of course I meant it. Now, let me hear you..."

"Words. Failing."

"Then, forget words."

He held her ass, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, spreading her wide.

"Mi stai uccidendo. Oh, mi stai uccidendo..."

She gripped his pellegrina urgently.

"La mia più dolce perfezione."

He kissed her fiercely.

"Oh, Dio... Sì. Milk my cock!"

She looked down, to see the tiny bit of his exposed flesh all a-quiver.

She had come so hard that her toes were half curled under. In her shoes.

He seemed content to lean against her & the wall. She anticipated an unholy mess.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"For the time being."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Did you mean it?"  
> * Last chapter, just before the flashback.
> 
> "Mi stai uccidendo. Oh, mi stai uccidendo..."  
> * You're killing me. Oh, you're killing me...
> 
> "La mia più dolce perfezione."  
> * My sweetest perfection.
> 
> "Oh, Dio... Sì..."  
> * Oh, God... Yes...  
> & then I had to go to English, because "Milk my cock!" kept getting progressively weirder.
> 
> Tell me what y'all think... I think this bit was fairly awful. We haven't even made it on the train, ffs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, time for the train...  
> *TOOT, TOOT!*  
> I may end up breaking this sucker into 2 chapters.  
> It got away from me.  
> This thing's heavy on the feels. Copia's a mess, & a little bit of back-story got snuck in. (Mary, & a terrible idea...)  
> (A REALLY terrible idea.)  
> And then, smut, as smut makes everything better.

They stood, waiting at the boarding platform. Dix wore some standard traveling clothes; a ladies' suit with a calf-length pleated skirt. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a loop. Even though it was perpetually straight, she never could do anything with it. It didn't really matter, as she also wore a hat.

Copia had some fancy new duds, as well. He wore a custom ivory white suit, impossibly tailored to look as though he had been poured into it. Light glimmered off the insignia embroidered on his chest. He wore a floppy black fedora, with a matchstick in the hatband, & carried a cane with a stylized snake handle.

She felt dowdy in her slate-blue suit. He held on to his cane like it was a life line, & was very obviously ill-at-ease.

Mary approached the platform. He also had a new outfit. It was all black, & cut similarly to Copia's white suit. Dix tilted her head; she didn't usually notice that the two men were the same size.

It was uncanny.

And... were those _lace-up_ pants?

Who wore lace-up pants?

Copia frowned, raising his cane to poke at the laces.

"What is this? Trick or Treat?" he sneered. "And here, I thought it was spring time."

Mary just glared; his soft, full mouth setting into a grim line.

They were constantly sniping at one another... ever since they had returned from the war.

Another white blur was approaching rapidly, followed by a larger, grayish-black one.

Dix fought to keep her jaw from dropping.

_Trick or Treat,_ indeed.

The Third, the young man being groomed to eventually lead the unholy church, was wearing a blinding white zoot suit.

The thing practically glowed in the dark.

Copia hissed audibly.

Dix pinched the bridge of her nose.

They hadn't even made it on to the train.

Terzo had a good-sized Ghoul following in his wake. He wore the modified, short cassock of all of the Third's group. He stood separate & a bit awkward, sky-blue eyes looking vaguely embarrassed behind his mask.

Dix leaned in to whisper, "Yours is better, Daddy."

Copia smiled fleetingly, before grabbing her gloved hand in his, to kiss it.

She frowned. He was stiff. So, so stiff.

"What is this?" he gestured to the Ghoul.

"Hey-" the Third held his hands up, in a placating gesture. "You get to bring people, I get to bring a- people."

Dix tried not to grin. The Third could be such a lovable dork.

He caught her, & smiled back.

"Tell them the whole story, jackass." Mary grumbled.

Copia raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Dix looked between them. This did not sound good.

She suddenly realized that the Third was yet another small man, just like the other two.

This was getting downright weird.

"Well-" Terzo began, ears burning red, "When I asked Auntie Imperator about bringing Omega, here..."

The Ghoul raised his hand in a little wave.

The Third said 'auntie' _on-tee._ His ears made a startling contrast to his black & white make-up. The two brothers insisted on always wearing the stuff, although their current status did not merit it.

The man suddenly would not make eye contact, & shuffled his feet nervously.

"We've been demoted." Mary finished for him.

Copia gripped the serpent handle to his cane in an absolute stranglehold.

"WHAT?"

"Yeah. You know how we had that large, open space? Well... now we've got two tiny compartments."

He grinned downright savagely.

"Mary!" Dix gasped.

Copia dropped his cane, & launched himself at the Third, choking him.

"You brat! You absolute, insufferable little bastard! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS!!"

"Train's here." Dix announced, in a small voice.

Everyone was so preoccupied, no one noticed when Mary slunk up to press a soft kiss close to her ear.

"I'm _sorry."_ he breathed, as she watched the Omega Ghoul physically pull her man off Terzo.

She knew he wasn't.

"Back off, trouble." she elbowed him.

He still grinned, rubbing his midsection.

"Do you really _want_ to babysit that creature, all the way to New Orleans?"

"Hush, Mary."

"I'll bet he cries."

_"Shut up,_ Mary."

"Pussy can't even handle a train ride..."

Copia was tugging down the bottom of his vest.

The Omega Ghoul was dusting off the Third, who was rather shaken.

"I didn't know-" he kept saying, as the Ghoul just nodded.

Copia retrieved his cane, & stalked over to Mary next.

"FUCK OFF, you evil little pain in my ass." he snarled, gesturing menacingly.

"Whoa. Nice way to treat the guy that blacked out your windows." Mary said, flippantly.

Dix groaned internally.

"I am not in the mood for this, you little shit. I _will_  end you."

Mary actually went a little paler at that... _A whiter shade of pale_.

"Could we please _just get on the train_?!" she practically shouted, tired of all of them.

They looked at her as though she had made a revelation.

The Third was the first, (ha) to all but run to the train, with his guest Ghoul close behind. Mary followed them, striding briskly but arrogantly.

Copia looked at her, his eyes half wild.

He was hanging on by a very thin thread.

She put her hand in the crook of one of his thin arms, & began to all but drag him to the train.

"You'll be fine." she tried to reassure him.

"You know damn well that I won't." he ground out.

Mary was lurking in the corridor outside the compartments.

"Your suite, _master."_ he smirked, with a flourish. "I think I'll go over, & ride with the big boys."

"Fuck off, Mary." he said tiredly, brushing past him. 

He went in, sat on the bench seat, propped up his cane, & removed his hat, defeated.

Dix pulled the heavy curtain. It probably didn't help matters... but, she was anticipating a full-scale meltdown. She then checked the windows, finding they were, indeed, completely blacked out.

There was raucous laughter next door, & some more mention of the word 'pussy'. A low rumble followed, which might have been a reproval, she couldn't tell.

She shook her head.

"What gives with you two?" she asked.

He'd closed his eyes. He now blinked at her owlishly.

"You really don't know?"

She shrugged, sitting down next to him.

"He fancies you, Dix. Hell. He might even think that he loves you."

It was her turn to blink.

"Ever since what happened... _happened,_ he's become increasingly insufferable."

_Oh._

"That was over a hundred years ago!"

He closed his eyes again, leaning back & nodding.

"It was yo _ur_ idea." she reminded him.

"Sì. It was a stupid, _stupid_ idea."

She leaned back herself, unsure of _what_ to say.

"I wish it had taken, though." he took her hand, & began to peel off a cream-colored glove. "You would have been a good mother."

"You don't know that." she protested.

"You take good care of _me."_ he began lavishing kisses upon her hand.

"I don't want to talk about it."

She never did.

"I know."

The train chugged away. Years later, a man called Johnny Cash would use the rhythm as the base for most of his songs.

She pulled off her other glove, & he embraced her as well as he could on the bench seat. He was unbelievably tense.

"How are you doing?"

He wouldn't answer. She looked up, to find his eyes rimmed in red.

He was on the verge of tears.

She (barely) suppressed her urge to go over & bop Mary one, & began digging through her purse. She produced a hanky embroidered with a tiny Viking ship that read, "Norge".

"No." he batted at her hands, "I'll ruin it."

A blood-tear was already mixing with & running through his black make-up.

"Oh, hush." she chided him. "It's just a hanky."

He sniffled as she dabbed at his eyes.

"This _is_ better than a coffin..." she said, just to talk.

"A little."

She couldn't understand him. Some enclosed spaces triggered a nervous breakdown, while others, he coped with splendidly.

"I _do_ enjoy a nice fuck in the confessional, from time to time." he said, pale eye locking on her eerily.

"Out." she warned him.

He sighed.

"I like your mind." he said, as though it were a normal compliment. "Always busy. Always spinning, like a top."

She put a hand on his thigh. He looked at it like it was something exotic.

"Can I ask you something?"

She slid her hand up the inside of his thigh.

"I found you hanging in a pillory frame, & yet, you've let me tie you up or bind you in just about every manner imaginable-"

She found what she was looking for, soft, but listing to the left, as usual.

"I trust you." she told him, with a meaningful look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'mma break it up.  
> Next is "distraction". 😈
> 
> Tell me what y'all think.  
> This one kind of surprised me with the direction it went...  
> 🚂


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